Haunted Hill
by Novaya Model
Summary: O'Dark Thirty Revamp. She couldn't wrap her brain around- not while still sane- but she knew the truth. Magic. As illogical as it was, three days and four nights of pondering had turned up that the most unreasonable, childish explanation was the only sound one. Alec/OC Marcus/OC (2 OCs, no triangle) (Rated T for now)
1. Haunted Hill

_**A/N: O'Dark Thirty Revamp. **_

_**I lied, this is nothing like the first chapter of O'Dark Thirty. Maybe if it was I would of gotten in published sooner...sorry...**_

_**Chapter Song:**_

_Haunted by Holly Brook_

_**~o0o~**_

_"We could get a chill, on haunted hill  
Where the saddest parts inside my heart  
Can live in the past, leave me at last."_

_**~o0o~**_

A chilled breeze danced across the top of the cliff, catching the light blonde hair of the 12 year old Welsh girl that sat atop it.

The scent of the Celtic Sea embraced her, wrapping her in warmth that was nearly impossible the northern body of water. The warmth wasn't physical, of course. No, that was ridiculous. The warmth was that of safety, of familiarity. She grew up on the western coast of Wales and had shared the sea with the eastern coast of Ireland- where she now sat on the wet grass of a tall cliff that was decorate with a surprisingly well kept castle. While there a few cracks and fallen stones in the courtyard and outer barrier, the main structure was still perfectly intact.

She had to hand it to the crazy, red-headed wench. The woman knew how to handle "ruins".

Sighing, Agatha fell down, resting her body on the lush green as she watched the tempestuous waves of her darling sea tell stories of an approaching storm.

Her mind's voice laughed cynically. That silly sea. The storm has already come. It came quietly, blowing in from the very cliff on which she lay, sneaking a simple note into her bedroom.

_I know. And I'll help. Meet me at the arch._

She knew the arch without question. It was a rock formation on the risen shoreline across town. When she was younger and snooping through the storage, she came across of few water colors created by the hand of her long deceased father. There were some of town, some of her infant self, and a few of the coast she had never been permitted to visit. Her curiosity, however, had over taken her. So on the days when her bruises were too severe to hide and her mother withheld her from classes before parading off to wherever she went for 12, 13, 14 hours, the little trouble maker wandered to the forbidden spot.

Maybe she should have questioned the note. Maybe she shouldn't have gone to the arch. But, for whatever reason, rebellion ceased her heart and mind.

An escape. An escape was finally here. She could finally be rid of the awful people others considered her parents. She could finally be free of the blood and bruises. She could finally be free of her hell.

Another bitter laugh rang through her mind.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire, right?

She had met the author of the note- a young, red head woman of Irish decent- and greeted her with silence and judging eyes.

The woman had smiled patiently and returned the harsh greeting with a much more pleasant, " 'Lo, doll. You quite alright this evening?"

Agatha didn't respond. Not verbally- of course, being the mute she is- and not physically. She stayed rooted in her spot as the stranger watched her with kind, green eyes. Then, the woman held out a pale, slightly freckled hand.

"Come now, child." She beckoned softly, her motherly smile still in place.

Gingerly, an optimistic-yet skeptic- Agatha stepped forward and gently rested her hand in the woman's open one.

In a moment's time, they were within the confines of a stone building.

Confused, terrified, Agatha ripped her hand away and stared in disgust at the woman. She hadn't a clue what just happened, but she didn't like it.

The woman seemed to expect this.

"I understand you're upset, darling," She began kindly, "And I understand why. I will explain all when you feel you are ready. Until then: I am Laviana, and this-" She motioned around the what seemed to the foyer- "is your home."

Three days later, lying in wet grass, Agatha knew what had happened. She couldn't wrap her brain around- not while still sane- but she _knew _the truth.

Magic.

You couldn't be a child during the turn of 21st century and not have some kind of precursor to the knowledge of magic. For most, it didn't exist beyond the realms of pages and films. She was no exception to this…not until four nights ago.

As illogical as it was, three days and four nights of pondering had turned up that the most unreasonable, childish explanation was the only sound one.

How else could someone transport themself and another across a sea and into a home in a split second? They couldn't.  
Not unless they had magic.

Her next "logical" conclusion was that Laviana was some sort of witch. With this came a minor panic.

Witches- or something of like- were real. So what else was? Were demons, werewolves and other evil creatures a reality as well? What about fairies and unicorns, or Cyclopes and dragons? Were undead creatures like, vampires and zombies, members of this reality?

And then the most important, most petrifying question came to mind.

What would Laviana, a presumed witch and known user of magic, want with her? Why was she suddenly part of this world? Was this going be some kind of "Chosen One" crap? What on Earth justified pulled a blissfully ignorant twelve year old from her known world and tossing her into a brand new- and much more dangerous- one?

A single pellet of rain splashed against her pale cheek, drawing her attention to the darkened sky. Fast moving, gray thunder clouds- cumulonimbus if her old science teacher was right- had overtaken the already dim skies. The foreboding sounds of thrashing waves were drown out by vicious and ominous rumbles of deep thunder.

Writhing winds whipping around her, Agatha stood and began walking back to the castle- her new home.

* * *

The door opened before he could knock.

"Children," His Godmother greeted with a wide smile, "Demetri."

"Miss Ní Arailt." Demetri greeted formally, bowing slightly as a practiced sign of respect.

Laviana laughed it off and ushered the three- himself, his sister and Demetri- into the castle.

"Gracious," She commented as she took one last look at the sinister sky, "So what have you three been up to?"

"Werewolf near Limerick," Jane said nonchalantly as she removed her cloak, "We were aiming to cross St. George's Channel before the storm came in, but the pup took longer than expected."

Ana nodded and took her cloak, ushering for his and Demetri's as well.

"Well, just for everyone's information," She began as she took the two other cloaks, "I've taken on a new charge. She's a bit timid, so don't go 'round actin' the maggot or I'm tossin' ya on your bum, 'right?"

Demetri and Jane agreed to her demands without question and stocked off, wandering around what could very well be considered their second home.

Alec, however, stuck around for a moment, smiling up at his auntie before hugging her softly.

She returned the affection- as he knew she would- and kissed the top of his rain pattered head.

The thirteen year old pulled away and kissed the woman's check before darting up the stairs, following the scent he had caught the moment they walked through the threshold of the castle.

Vanilla and evergreen- the new charge. Laviana had told them not to frighten her, but she didn't say anything about maybe, kinda stalking her, a little bit. Besides, it would only scare her if she caught him and considering how many times he's gotten the upper hand on Demetri, it was safe to assume that a silly little baby-witch wouldn't catch on.

The soft scent was most prominent in one wing, he had noticed. One hall, actually. He had stepped through the archway from the third-floor stair landing and listened for a heartbeat.

The tiniest, quietest _Bu-dum _could be heard above him. Almost directly, actually. He thought of the stairwell and was reminded of the small tower that topped it. So she was in the tower. Perfect.

With a wicked smile, the boy followed her scent down the hall, finding the door behind which the strongest concentration of that cookies – and – forest aroma was held.

Softly, he opened the solid oak door.

Inside, a nearly empty room was waiting for him.

The only furniture was a tall dresser, a bed and small night table.

Both the table and the dresser were adorned with books and unlit, but previously used, candles. He recognized a few of the title- Grimm's Fairy Tales; The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe; The Da Vinci Code- but most of them either he hadn't heard of or the bindings were covered in duct tape. Atop a small pile of unidentified novels rested a small, leather-bound pocket journal.

Never one for minding another's privacy, much to the dismay of his often targeted sister, Alec opened the little book and read the first entry.

_I've never before found use for this, because never before had any events been so novel as to call for a written memorial of them. Tonight, however, after the average eating-and-beating of the evening time, I came to my room to find a tiny piece of some kind of parchment lying on my bed. "I know. And I'll help. Meet me at the arch." The largest part of me is tumbling over the idea. Sneak out and meet a complete stranger? What if it's a setup, a way to get me in trouble and justify more harsh beatings? What if I'd be leaving a life a physical abuse for one of sexual abuse- either by whoever left the note or by being sold into some kind of pedophilic sex trafficking ring? _

_But another part of me knows the internal struggle is no use. _

_I am going to go. This could very well be my only chance and, while I'm no gambler, I'm going to take it._

_I'll wait for them to tuck in before packing my bag- _

Alec looked around the room and saw an old, canvas backpack nestled between the bed and nightstand.

_-of only the most essential things. I only pray this go well. If this __**is **__a trap, or if I get caught, I may very well be dead. I wouldn't put it pass them._

Luckily, he thought, it did go well.

Closing the journal and returning it to its place, Alec left the bare room and wandered back to the stairwell.

He wanted to see this girl- whether to size her up or just out of morbid curiosity, he didn't know. Following the steady heartbeat, he traveled up the winding, stone stairs. As he neared the open archway the marked the tower, his senses were bombarded with the scents of vanilla, pine and Irish rain and the sounds of a thunder storm, a pouring sky and a calm heart.

Silently, he stepped into the stone arch.

Her back was turned to him as she sat atop an ancient, stone seat and peered out the open window. Considering the season, he had to assume she was cold. She didn't seem to mind it, though. More did she mind getting wet, it appeared, as a gust of wind sent a sheet of rain through the opening and into her. The girl didn't even flinch.

Instead, she brushed some of her blonde hair behind her pale ear. From his angel, the action gave him a descent profile of her young face.

Silver eyes- far too wise for her youthful appearance- were lined in thick, dark lashes. A small, snub nose sat delicately in line with angled cheeks and a plump upper lip pouted over a slightly less-full lower one.

She was only a child, probably about his age, but she looked much older. Mature beyond her years. Maybe it was the seen-too-much shadow over otherwise striking eyes; maybe it was the elegant incline of her cheek bones, he didn't know. All he knew was that she was beautiful. Damp, and cold, but beautiful.

The woman- **child**- sighed quietly and slowly stood, wiping the rain from her face.

Before she could turn to him, Alec dashed down the stairs. At the bottom, his sister was waiting for him, arms crossed and eyes scolding in a way only an elder twin could manage.

He knew she knew what he was doing. And he knew she didn't approve, seeing as it indirectly went against an order.

He put on a mask of innocence and shrugged his shoulders, causing Jane to roll her red eyes like the elder twin she was.

* * *

_**So whatdaya think?**_


	2. Through the Glass

_**A/N: 20 days later, the second chapter. This one brings Marcus and his and Laviana's back story into the equation.**_

_**HermioneandMarcus, Kate, Larcian and MorningStar, thank you all for your kind reviews.**_

_**Chapter Song:**_

_Through Glass by Stone Sour  
_

_**~o0o~**_

_"I'm looking at you through the glass...  
Don't know how much time has passed  
And all I know is that it feels like forever  
When no one ever tells you that forever  
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head"_

**_~o0o~_**

"You must be in peak physical condition, understood?"

Agatha nodded, ignoring the cold bite of wind that nipped at her exposed ears.

"Good," Laviana commented as they hiked through the lush, green trails, "In order to do this properly, I need to assess where you currently stand in reference to levels of fitness. Today we will focus on testing your cardiovascular and muscular endurance. We will begin with a 6 kilometer jog. You will start here and follow the blue trail markers. They will eventually lead you to a lookout point, where I will be waiting. Take your time, pace yourself. This is an assessment, not a test. Understood?"

She nodded again and started doing small stretches, prepping her young, untrained body for the novel physical activity.

Laviana pulled her fiery locks into a ponytail and summoned a stopwatch, wrapping the tie around her wrist and bracing her thumb over the start button.

"Alright…and…go."

She watched as Agatha began, starting off at a steady stride as she ran down the path. Once the young girl was lost from sight, Ana turned and started her own jog.

With an ease that came naturally to such a well-trained athlete, she darted between the trees and bushes, a vision of red hair and a gray track jacket flying through the air.

Ten minutes later, her pounding feet lightened on the soggy ground as her run slowed to a walk. Approaching the look-out deck, she took note that someone had beaten her there. A man, about six foot, leaned against the wooden railing and observed the Irish scenery. While it was not uncommon for someone to be here- the view _was _beautiful- what struck Ana as odd was the man's attire.

A crisp, well-fitted suit was not hiking material. At least, not to humans.

She smirked.

"Enjoying' the view, mate?"

A gravely chuckled warmed her chilled body as she walked up next to him and began stretching.

"There's a particular majesty to Ireland." He commented, his red eyes never once drawn from the scene of evergreens smothered in early morning, post-storm mist. "Italy is stunning in its own right, but nearly nothing can beat an Irish forest."

"Not even a Scottish one?" She joked as she spread her bare legs- shorts were always her choice of running bottoms- and bent down, touching her palms to the wooden floor.

He smiled, "Not even a Scottish one."

"Irish pride in full-effect," She said with a bright smile as she stood, "Thank you."

Bracing the heels of her hands on the wooden rail, Laviana hoisted herself up and planted her ass down, her back to the view and her eyes focused on Marcus. Was it weird that she was obsessed with a perpetually 19 year old? She was..what?...24, 25? It wasn't _that _strange, was it? Caius and Annie had nearly 20 years between them, after all.

"I hear you have a new charge."

She scoffed, "Scoping things out, are we?"

A phony look of offense crossed his perfect features as he turned to her for the first time and insisted, "I am simply curious of the recent happenings in a good friend's life."

"I already gave you Alec and Jane," She told, leaning in closer as she bantered, "Don't push your luck, bloodsucker."

"Wouldn't dream of it, witch." He responded with equal sarcasm, his attention transfixed on the mischievous glint in her green eyes. Her affections were no secret to him- or any ancient, for that matter, but him most obviously- and moments like these, he nearly returned them. The times when her soul was strong and fiery, challenging him in the impish way she does. Didyme had always challenged him, as well, but in a different way.

His late wife was always so full of love and compassion, a glimmer of optimism in the darkest times. She was a naïve idealist who never lost the rose-colored glasses of childhood ignorance. And that was beautiful.

Laviana, though, she wasn't optimism. She was more than that. In the darkest times, she wasn't sending messages of unjustified hope, she _was _hope. She was a warrior, a gift from the heavens to a war-stricken world. (Often, it was joked about the castle that _she _should have been named Athenadora, Gift from Athena). She was older than any of them and had faced more battles- physical, intellectual and political alike- than she could remember. Wisdom was not a mere trait of her's, but a lifestyle.

And this was- may he be stricken down for thinking such- a relief for him on most days, oh way back when. While Aro and Caius could easily consult their wives with matters of great political importance, he never had that luxury with Didyme. It's not that she didn't try for him, but that he never wanted to talk to her about it. By going to the tried and tested knowledge of the ancient witch, Marcus had figured he was protecting his wife from the evils of the world of royalty.

He had never been so wrong.

For centuries, he had avoided Laviana after…that. He never fully understood why it hurt him so much to be around someone who he considered to be a lifelong friend. Before, he had justified it as the guilt of his wife's death- thinking that if he hadn't gone to Laviana with everything related to Romanians, newborns, werewolves and the like, that he had been honest with his wife of the horrors of their world, she'd have been better prepared for the attack that took her from him. It wasn't until about two centuries back- when she was visiting Jane and Alec and the light caught her hair and her laugh broke through the monotony of the castle- did he realize the true nature of his guilt.

He wanted her. Her mind, her body, and her soul. All of her, he wanted for his own.

Guilt destroyed him once more after that. How long had he felt this way? Were these romantic ties- hidden from his own sight- existent while his darling Didyme was still with them? Was that why he always left for Ireland in times of hardship.

After his early 1800s revelation, Marcus took further care to avoid her. With no prevail, mind you. Caius had grown tiresome of these games and had often arranged situations during which the two would be forced together. Throughout these times, their friendship rekindled. It was obvious to him that she longed for more, as she always had, but he couldn't give it to her. Even now, in the 21st century, he felt as though acting upon these feelings, these desires, would be wronging his long-passed wife.

Moments like these, however, when she had a smirk to match his and green eyes dancing with playful intent, the guilt was almost forgotten.

Almost.

"So what do you have her doing?" He asked, referring to the new charge as he turned his attention back to the scenery.

"Jogging the Blue," She said nonchalantly, though the disappointment was evident to his vampiric senses, "She should be here in a few minutes."

And so they sat in silence for the next five minutes until a panting young blonde broke through the moss-covered woodland and walked up to the landing.

"21 minutes," Laviana noted as she hopped off the railing, "Not bad, not bad at all."

A prideful smile graced the girl's wind-battered face as she paced the deck, trying to catch her breath.

"Agatha, this is Marcus. He is one of the three leaders of the Volturi. You met three guard members last week, do you remember?"

She nodded and offered a small, highly restrained smile and nod to the man- now turned to face her- and went back to pacing and stretching.

Marcus watched the child with interest. Had he not known her age, he would have marked her for much later teen years. It was no surprise that Alec- often mistakenly given a few years to his age, as well- was fond of the girl, at least physically. At the end of the day, a slim body and a pretty face was the end-all-be-all for most thirteen year old boys.

"Not that this hasn't been lovely," Laviana said as she approached the girl, pulling her charmed, canary yellow pendant from the previously zipped pocket of her jacket, "But we have a lot of training today."

"Of course," He replied, understanding the troubles of training young witches, "I wish you the best."

"You as well, Marcus." She smiled tightly, looping an arm through Agatha's as her pendant glowed. He watched as the two were engulfed in an aura of yellow. In a moment, they were gone.

* * *

Clumps of snow fell from the sky. Not flakes, not flurries, but big, soggy clumps. Not uncommon for the region, but note-worthy nonetheless.

The accumulation was mind blowing. The lush green of the grass and the cold grey of rocks were covered by stark white. It was quite beautiful, really.

"Incredible, isn't it?" A soft voice called from behind her, "Wales doesn't have a leg to stand on when it comes to an Irish winter."

A small smile tugged at her lips as Agatha was warmed by the thought of her home country. While her life had been cruel, she had always found solace in the beauty of the seasons.

The older witch took a place beside the 12 year old, each leaning against the stone windowsill as they silently watched the peaceful snowfall.

A flicker of movement in her peripheral vision caught Agatha's attention, and the young girl whipped her head to the side.

A quiet laugh on her other side drew Aggie back to her mentor.

"You have nothing to fear, child," The redhead told her softly, "It's only Helen."

The preteen crossed her arms and shot the woman a disbelieving look, baiting the witch to go into further explanation.

"Helen's family owned this castle a few centuries ago," Laviana explained simply, still watching the snow fall, "They were the last ones before I took charge, actually. When she was in her eighth or ninth year, Helen had some kind of fatal accident. The family left shortly thereafter."

Furtherly curious, Agatha quickly scanned the room and found a note pad and pen resting atop a writing desk. She rushed over to it and scribbled down her question.

"_What was the accident?"_

Ana read the inquiry and offered a tight smile.

"Let's not discuss that right now," She said, stepping away from the window, "It _is_ supper time, after all. And we have so much more to talk about. You've been doing your readings, yes? It's vitally important that you understand the differences between a fairy and forest nymph…"

As they journeyed to the dining room, Agatha allowed herself to tune out the woman's empty ramblings, knowing fully well that nothing she was saying was of any importance and was only being used to deter from the subject of Helen, whoever the child was.

Was she a ghost? Aggie couldn't tell, for she hadn't actually _seen_ anything solid, only movement. A quick little darting. There was creature _doing _the darting. And yet, Ana know what it was without question. How was that possible? Honestly, how common was such a thing a people sticking around after their bodies have died? Was it common enough that Helen had…"friends" here? And on that, were these possible "friends" safe? Was Helen safe? Laviana seemed to think so, but Agatha never trusted something she couldn't identify. Maybe _that's_ why she never ate her mother's cooking…

As the two witches took their seats at the red oak dining table, Agatha made a note the visit the main library of the castle later in the evening and begin her investigation into this "Helen" and all things of the like.

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Marcus turned to his brother's wife. "Pardon?"

The woman with strawberry hair smiled and waved off his confusion.

"Television," she noted, taking a seat next to him near the bay window, "Now, tell me you're thoughts on Ana's new apprentice."

Marcus grimaced and turned his attention back to the setting sun and rolling hills of northern Italy.

"Couldn't you just inquire with your husband?"

She waved off his comment once more. "He doesn't like discussing other people's private thoughts with me. Something about integrity. Now, talk. What do you think about this Agatha girl?"

He sighed, "I'm not entirely sure. I didn't see her for more than a few moments when Ana took her home."

Sulpicia nodded and dug for more information. "Well, did Ana mention anything about her? Good girl, conniving, protege, inept? Anything?"

"Why do you care?" He drawled, "You know Ana well enough to know that she's in no danger."

Sully hit his shoulder.

"Not Ana, you fool. Alec!" She hissed, "I heard you three boys talking about it, and I'll be damned if I let some little hussy take my baby's heart without me knowing a single thing about her!"

Marcus chuckled to himself, ever amused by Sulpicia's protectiveness towards the twins and began to speak.

"He is merely infatuated with the girl, Sulpicia. This has yet to become an epic love tale."

"'Yet to become,'"She quoted heatedly, "Which means that has potential to be just that. And if that day arrives, I will not be left blind to the capabilities of this girl. Now, did Laviana tell you anything useful about the child?"

Marcus stiffened and averted his eyes, "Conversation wasn't exactly easy."

This time, she hit him in the head.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" She hissed loudly before returning to her original situation, "Fine. I'll send Jane, Alec and Annie to do recon. Alec so that he may have more time to judge the girl before falling for her too harshly and Jane because she is just as curious about her brother's crush as I."

"And Athenadora?" He questioned, "Why not go yourself?"

Sully rose and began to leave his room.

"Because, dear Marcus, I cannot guarantee that I won't end up dragging the girl into the dungeons and interrogating her."

"Do you truly think Caius will allow his wife this little adventure."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," She commented, regardless of the fact that they both understood this old adage to be perfectly false, "Besides, it's better to seek forgiveness than to ask permission."

And with that, she was gone.

He was alone with his thoughts once again.

Red eyes focused in on the dying daylight as it set the hills aflame.

The color reminded him of Laviana.

His dead heart yearned for her in ways that disgusted him. Even worse? He was disgusted at being disgusted. He was so many different levels of screwed up when it came to this relationship that he could hardly process it.

And so he sat alone, pondering his shortcomings, life he should've had with his wife, and the life he _could_ have with the fiery, intelligent and ravishing Irish woman whom he constantly taunted and toyed with- however unintentionally.

The sun had set.

The fire was gone.

And Marcus was alone, as always.

* * *

_**A/N: Please review**_

_**I'm working on Iris, but for whatever the chapter I'm trying to write just isn't flowing right. I'm doing all I can, trust me.**_


	3. Risque

_**A/N: Sorry this has taken so long. I'm in my final lap of high school and 4 of my 5 teachers have been assigning overlapping projects, back-to-back since early April. Honestly, I have a Marketing II project due on the 10th, a Sociology project due on the 8th and an Expositority Writing II 15 page research/persuasive/narrative paper due on the 15th (aka, seniors' last day). Then I have graduation practice at 8 am on the 17th and graduation on the 18th.**_

_**Along with that, my college is full of freaking idiots who seem to be incapable of working a mailing list, seeing as I've been cleared to have gotten all of my housing and orientation information even though the last I heard from the place was postcard on my birthday. It's going to be a tedious next four years.**_

_**Oh! And my brother graduates from college on the 12th (a Sunday), and apparently I have to be in attendance, so I won't be in school on the 13th which is pretty much when every teacher is going to be handling end-of-year and graduation shit, so God only knows all the shit I'm going to miss because I have to travel across the freaking state to watch my stupid brother walk across a stage and get a piece of paper- as though there were any question that he wasn't going to graduate. Big freaking whoop! I'll go to his Master's ceremony, no problem. But a Bachelor's Degree? My brother and I somehow developed this over-achiever gene, so in both of our minds that's no more glorious than my soon-to-be high school diploma.**_

_**And I can't talk about any of this with my friends because they're all going to community college or joining the armed forces and as soon as I bring this shit to them they'll just give me crap for "being better than them" and "that's why you should've stayed home". Dumb fucks have been bitching about this town since the seventh grade and are pissed because I'm getting out when they were too lazy to go through the application process last summer and are stuck here through the results of their fear and procrastination.**_

_**I'm freaking out, ya'll.**_

_**Anyway:**_

_**HermioneandMarcus: **Thank you very much and I'm sorry this took so long  
_

**_MorningStar:_**_ Thank you, and do you m__ind telling that to my Expos teacher? Because I'm pretty sure she hates my writing, even though it's nearly identical to her own style. Flipping hypocrite. "Too rambly". It's a stream-of-consciousness essay... "Too storyteller". It's a narrative! "Connect with audience more". My audience is a 30-something, diabetic, high school writing teacher. The hell am I supposed to connect with!?_

_...I think I get the 'rambly' thing now.../endrant_

**_Kate:_**_That was actually one of the reasons I stopped **O'Dark Thirty**, I feel like I dove into the story without giving proper situational development, so I'm trying to fix that tendency of mine with this story attempt._

**_Thank you for the reviews, and once again: Sorry this took so long. Things should get back to normal after the 18th, I just need some time to freak out right now._**

_**Chapter Song:**_

_Risque by Cute Is What We Aim For  
_

**_~o0o~_**

_"And I can't get a hold of her  
And what's a crush to do?  
And what's a crush to do when he can't get through?"_

**_~o0o~_**

Silence echoed through the empty castle. Such peace was music to Aggie's ears- as it always had been- as she went about her studies. The soothing scent of sea water and cut grass came with the soft Irish breeze and blessedly overpowered the bitter must of the ancient building that she called home and refreshed what was her suffocating concentration.

Leaning back in the chair, the almost-13 year old stretched her shoulders and back before removing her sweatshirt and pulling her (much to her delight and pleasure) silky hair into a ponytail. With her new found energy, she flipped the page in her older-than-time text book and continued learning about the various forms of after death reincarnation.

In the open arch-way of the library stood a prime example of such an anomaly. Having arrived only minutes ago, Alec, his sister and Mistress Athenadora had parted ways. Athena went into town to find Laviana and Jane went to walk the sea shelf, leaving Alec to wander the castle as he so enjoyed doing.

With his wanderings he had caught a familiar scent and joyfully followed it to the house archives, where an adorable young witch diligently studied away the day. Smiling to himself, Alec strolled into the large room and went straight for the young girl at the center reading table. As naturally silent as vampires are, it was no shock to him when his arrival went unnoticed by the pretty miss.

"Whatchya reading?"

A practiced smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth when he saw her jump. He watched in amusement as her surprise morphed to annoyance, Agatha turning in her seat and looking up at him. Silver eyes drifted over his features- probably assessing whether he posed a threat- and landed on the pendant resting on his chest.

A look of recognition flashed through her judging eyes as she took-in the commonly known Volturi crest. Annoyance intact, she met his eyes once more. Leaning back and crossing her arms, she cocked an eyebrow and silently drilled a variety of unspoken questions into him. Why was he here? What did he want? Why was he bothering her? As her silence continued, Alec assumed it was up to him to decide which question she asking with her cold, silver eyes.

"I'm here with two others," he explained simply, taking a seat at the table and nonchalantly picking up one of the _many_ collected books that busied the oak wood, "visiting Laviana. Do you know where she is, by the way?"

Agatha could tell by the glint in his red eyes and the smirk on his face that he _knew _she couldn't tell him. He was taunting her mutism. Arse.

Deciding to be the bigger person, she simply turned back to her open book and left the vampire boy to his own devices, hoping that if she ignored him long enough he'd go away. However, this hope was shot dead when, not thirty seconds later, the boy swiped her book out from under her.

"Ghosts?" He asked with amusement, dodging her reach and moving to pace around the table, "Met Helen, did you?"

Lips pulled back into a snarl, she launched herself at him, only to land face first on the rug.

"Honestly?" He questioned from the other side of the table, "I'm a vampire, darling. Surely Ana's taught you enough for you to know how _that _was going to end."

Silently huffing, she rolled over and sat up, crossing her arms over her chest once more and glaring holes into the back of his head. Rage boiled her blood as she heard the distinct sound of flipping pages. He lost her place, the stupid bastard.

"You know," He began again, still flipping through the book, "I've always been fascinated with ghosts. And specters. And poltergeists. They're all different, you know? What am I saying? Of course you know. That is, if your selected literary investments are any indication."

Agatha glared up at the boy from her place sitting on the floor. She remembered him from the previous week and she wasn't impressed with him. In her few years of primary school she had met plenty of his type: cocky, arrogant bullies who felt entitled because of their family names. Unfortunately for him, the only influence the name Volturi had on her was on her studies. Whomever these three kings, two queens and however many guard members were to their own world or even Laviana (seeing as she seemed close to the "Marcus" man from yesterday as well as these other members that keep visiting), they didn't matter to her.

Rising from the rug, Agatha walked up to the smirking boy and snatched her book back. The immortal 13 year old chuckled and only continued to smirk as he stepped forward, leaving only centimeters between them as he lowered his face to her own- currently scrunched in annoyance and discomfort.

"Temperamental little pet, aren't you?"

Alec watched in amusement as the young woman's being contorted with rage. Her pretty face twisted into a predatory snarl that would put a starved newborn to shame and her body twitched away, though his hand caught her arm and stopped her from moving far. Her snarl deepened as she glared at his hand, and he could all but see her mind working.

She didn't know much- having only been a part of this world for a _very_ short time- yet she knew enough to know danger. He observed closely as her heart beat quickened, but fear never over took her. Annoyance, yes. Aggravation, most definitely. But never fear. Having been feared by most everyone he's met- his Masters included, to a certain degree- her reaction was refreshing.

Not mention adorable.

"Alec."

At the sound of his sister's exasperated voice, he turned his eyes to the library doors.

Jane stood in her "Mistress" stance- adopted from the two women that had been mothers to him and her for over a thousand year- with her arms crossed and her feet planted on the ground. Her red eyes bore into him and an unspoken lecture was written across her forever young face.

"Leave the poor girl be."

Sighing loudly, the younger twin released his grip on the 12 year old and rolled his eyes.

He never got to have any fun.

With one final, hard glare, Agatha turned to the table and gathered a select few of her books into her arms. Irritation coursing through her tense body, she stormed to the doors of the archives. On her way out, she turned back to the young vampire glaring at his sister.

She threw a book at him.

A pale hand shot up instantaneously and caught the flying text with inhuman ease. His red eyes turned back to the now fuming girl and he grinned.

"Nice try, Pet."

If she weren't a mute, she would have screamed.

**~8~**

Athenadora wandered through the colorful town, shades of red, yellow and blue distorted by the brown tint of her sunglasses. Hidden red eyes scanned the crowd of locals as she searched for centuries-old friend. It was Sunday, and Sunday had been Laviana's restocking day for decades. So logic would dictate that the age-old witch had wandered into the town farmers market while her young apprentice held down house. Logic led her to this conclusion, yes, but that didn't mean Athenadora was too fond of the idea of shoving her way through sweaty people and smelly produce. Maybe she'd just wait here at the corner…

For a fraction of an hour, the vampire queen leaned against a yellow wall and tapped the sole of her shoe against the cobblestone sidewalk as she watched people travel to and from the bustling makeshift marketplace until two particular people stumbled out of the fray.

She watched with interest as a young, attractive man in a pair of faded jeans and a gray, cotton shirt smiled and messily bowed to a laughing Laviana- dressed in denim shorts and a loose, long-sleeved top. In response to his bow, the red headed witch mocked a curtsey before the two parted ways.

Smirking, Athenadora darted to her friend in a split second.

"Who was that?"

Laviana jumped in shock at the sound behind, but answered nonetheless.

"That was Billy." She said simply, turning the smiling vampire behind her, "A charming young man enjoying a morning at the market."

Annie nodded and began walking, pulling Laviana along with her as they traveled back to the castle.

"And what were you doing with Billy?" The vampire asked in sincere interest as the two woman walked arm-in-arm down the town streets.

"Shopping." The witch answered shortly, rattling the bags in her arms, "It is much more enjoyable when you have someone to do it with."

"You have Agatha, don't you?"

"Agatha's busy," Laviana snipped, "And why do you care?"

Athenadora shrugged.

"I'm a married woman who is forced by such ties to live vicariously through her only single friend," She lied easily, "Allot me that thrill, won't you?"

Ana laughed bitterly and rolled her eyes.

"There is no 'thrill' to be allotted." She said, "You know I don't become involved when I'm mentoring."

"Not even with Marcus?" The 19 year old vampire joked.

"Funny."

"I thought so." She smiled.

Ana sighed and rolled her eyes once more as they stepped off of cobblestone and onto the gravel of the country roads.

"What are you doing here, Annie?"

The young woman gasped in feigned hurt.

"I'm insulted, Laviana. _Must_ I have an agenda to come visit a friend?"

"No," the witch answered simply, "But this is the third Volturi visit I've had in the past two weeks. Granted, the first one wasn't planned, but Marcus's was and I'm willing to bet yours is, as well."

"Sulpicia has me doing reconnaissance." Athenadora conceded.

An animalistic growl erupted from Laviana's throat as the two woman turned onto the castle's road.

"She does this _every time_!" The witch shouted as they approached the door, "Every single _bloody_ time I take on a charge!"

"So you should be used to it by now." Athenadora commented lightheartedly, pushing the door open with her free hand, "It's not as though she has ill-intentions."

The women disconnected as they walked into the kitchen. Laviana dropped her canvas bags onto one of the counter tops and started angrily emptying their contents.

"Regardless of the nature of her intentions, she should trust me. I'm older than dirt and she continually treats me like an invalid."

"If it's any consolation," Annie offered as she began to put away the fresh groceries, "I don't think it's about you this time."

"Hmm?"

"Well, according to Caius, the general consensus is that Alec has developed a little crush on the new girl."

The witch groaned. "Of course he has. So that's what this is, then? Not babysitting a woman who has _at least_ three centuries on the oldest remaining vampiric ancient, but protecting a 1200 year old teenager from himself?"

"More like protecting him from her." Jane commented as she journeyed into the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" Her mistress asked in confusion.

The thirteen year old took a seat at the kitchen island and started playing with a jar of spice. "You know how Alec isn't necessarily very emotionally intelligent in reference to himself? Well, he can't exactly process the fact that he's capable of these feelings- especially for a mortal. Because of that, he has taken to bothering her instead of wooing her."

Ana scoffed. "So he's regressing, is what you're saying?"

Jane nodded and continued to twiddle with the spice jar.

"Yup. And while he's stuck acting like a child, she is going to become more powerful. Right now, she's throwing books at him. In time though, she'll be throwing spells."

"In short time," Ana commented as she took the jar out of Jane's hand and placed it back on the spice rack, "She seems to be very talented. She's already seen Helen. It usually takes most charges a month or so before they start noticing psychic phenomena."

Athenadora snatched the jar of off the rack and tossed it back to the younger vampire. "Any indication of what her gift will be?"

Ana glared at the woman before answering.

"Too soon to tell," She admitted, "At this point she's just as likely to be clairvoyant as she is pyrokentic. As we get further into the application portion of her studies I'll have a better idea."

"Well," Annie said as she, herself, began playing with the spice jars, "Let's hope for Alec's sake that whatever her gift is, it's passive."

In perfect time with Athena' comment, a thudded crash could be heard from another wing of the old castle. Moments later, a disheveled Alec dashed into the kitchen and sat by his sister.

"She's getting quicker." He commented off-handedly as he fixed his hair.

"You've got some candle wax on your sleeve." Jane responded, leaning over and picking the drying wax off.

Ana looked to Athenadora and saw the woman laughing to herself, completely amused by the young boy's antics.

"So how long are you lot going to be staying?" She asked in a (what she hoped was) nonchalant tone as she moved to the cleaning cabinet on the other side of the kitchen.

"About a week." Annie answered with a knowing smirk.

"Fantastic." The mentoring witch muttered, grabbing a bottle of candle wax remover and an old rag.

**~o0o~**

_**A/N: So there's that. I hope you liked it and I ask that you review with your thoughts, because they make me happy and I need some happiness right now. Pretty please?  
**_


End file.
